this wasn't in the manual

Friday, 24 August 2012

My husband does not get a thrill from wearing women’s
clothes. He’s not a closet cross dresser and in all honesty he’d make an ugly
woman. Yet for reasons unknown to me he decided to put on one of my dresses the
other night and proceed to do a crazy little dance in front of the kids. All
together it was probably a whole minute of dress wearing, the lads had a good
laugh and the incident was forgotten.

That was until the other day when I went to pick the kids up
from school wearing the dress. For those of you that don’t know, my boys attend
a close knit Catholic School with approximately 303 students. After school all
the children come to a specified area out the front where they are supervised
until they are collected by parent/guardian etc. This pickup area is therefore full
of parents, students, teachers and most often even the principal who supervises
the drive through pick up. Picture it now, children lined up in class rows with
their teachers, parents in their cliques portraying how wonderful they are and
the principal out the very front near the kerb overseeing the whole thing. Then
there’s me walking up to this pick up area in said dress. I am about 10 meters
away from the pickup area when Josh, who’s already seen me and gotten
permission to leave, steps out of the grass area onto the footpath and in front
of everyone, hand on hip and shouts in a condescending tone “Mum! Why are you
wearing Daddy’s dress?”. Teachers, parents, friends and yes the principal all
turn to look at me who is now so red I’d put tomatoes to shame.

Thursday, 16 August 2012

I’m not generally one to rock the boat or cause a fuss. I’m
content to go with the flow and unless necessary just leave others be to their
devices.

As some of you know the other week as I walked past some
smug young girls I overheard one of them not so quietly say “Thank God I am not
as fat as her.” Normally I would just keep walking and not stoop to their low
level. Instead I turned around, took a step closer and whilst puffing my
peacock like chest loudly said “Thank God I’m not as ugly as your soul clearly
is.” As I promptly and proudly walked off some people clapped and I felt
victorious.

Once again whilst out yesterday I overheard a comment that
propelled me into an almost Pulp Fiction style beg for forgiveness you pitiful
person situation. The comment from a middle aged woman “That’s disgusting that
she’s out without covering that head of hers. I can’t even look at her without
feeling sick, she should be ashamed.” It was in reference to a woman whom since
I don’t actually know, can only assume is undergoing some kind of medical
treatment that makes her look like death warmed up and has caused her hair to
fall out. Instantly reaching boiling point I could not contain the angry barrage
that flowed from my mouth at her. I mean
seriously if shame should be inferred in anyone’s direction it is clearly hers.
I asked her how she could come out without her disgusting mouth in check since it’s
clearly a detriment to all of society. Once started though there was no
stopping me and she bore the full brunt of my outrage in dumbfounded open
mouthed silence. A crowd started to form in curiosity and the woman headed to
the car park. I was left defending my actions it is true but still felt vilified
in my actions and will not apologize for them nor feel that I was too cruel to
that woman despite some of the onlookers comments.

Continuing into the supermarket I was again confronted with
a scene of complete lack of respect. At the checkout where I was waiting to pay
for my groceries the man in front of me went off his head at the youngish
checkout girl for putting his meat in the same bag as his milk. Even though she
politely apologized and rectified the issue, he continued to abuse her. So much
so that the young girl was in fact in tears and he still didn’t look like
stopping. Of course management were nowhere to be seen so for reasons unknown
to me I stepped in and stuck up for the girl. It was of course not very successful
since the man then just directed his anger at me, although I didn’t actually
raise my voice to him or even say anything remotely cruel to him. I merely
pointed out the problem was fixed, the girl apologized and now since she’s
crying perhaps he should calm down. He did his best to engage me in an argument
but I didn’t take his bait. Finally he paid for his groceries, made some
threats and left. I really don’t know what is wrong with people lately.

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Some days I really feel my brain has been abducted by aliens
as I sleep because I just do the stupidest things. I’m not in the Mensa league
but I do usually have some relatively decent smarts about me. Today I console
myself with the fact that I have chipped my incisor tooth and it’s made sleep
difficult. On top of that I love water and drink like 3 litres a day easily.
Due to the tooth, this is rather painful and uncomfortable, so I have had to
cut back. Therefore I may be dehydrated and this may be effecting my thinking.
Or in this case lack of thinking.

The house we are renting is having its quarterly inspection
tomorrow and so I am in a spin getting it spick and span. I don’t know why
these darn inspections get me into such a flap but they do. I’d popped some
pain relief pills this morning and whilst toddler was preoccupied with Play
School I set about scrubbing things that are already clean. Just as the
television program ended I felt a bursting desire to use the bathroom. I had in
fact been putting it off for quite some time as parents do in the process of
getting things done first. I abandoned tools and rush, no run to the loo. My
cheeks had barely touched the seat when toddler starts screaming. I’ve been
holding too long and got to finish. Since he’s crying, I know he must be
relatively ok. I only need a minute anyway. As I stand up to flush I have that
sinking thought and realization I have left my cleaning chemicals in the
bathroom and that is where he must be. Rushing into the bathroom I find he has
sprayed my rather toxic bleach cleaner all over the bathroom. He was wanting to
be helpful and clean. In the process he has gotten a smidge in his eye. I need
to wash his eye but this bleach is everywhere: on taps, in the bath, in the
basin, all over the floor, on the windows and up the walls. It’s really quite
amazing how much mess a little person can make in such a short time. I use my
top to wipe his eye and clear the bath out to put him in. Ah clothes ruined,
towels ruined, bathroom squeaky clean, toddler sparkly clean, crisis over and
importantly toddler is fine.

Why on earth then would I tempt fate again? Everyone knows
you never leave cooking unattended. Especially not sausages in a saucepan. So I
cannot explain why I would leave them, on a low heat and go hang washing on the
line. I made sure toddler came with me into the garage and locked the door
behind me so he could not get back into the kitchen and possibly burn himself.
I filled the washing basket and almost as soon as I stepped out the door, bang
toddler slides the door closed and locks it. I’m locked outside, toddler is in
the garage and sausages are in the pan. I start to panic almost instantly
because I am more than aware how quickly this can all go exceptionally bad. I
wasn’t worried so much about the house or our things in it as we have
insurance. I am however worried about the toddler. I can see still see him and
he isn’t silly, so I knock on the door and tell him to open it. He smiles at me
and ignores me. He’s busy playing with my husband’s dangerous tools and lawn
mower petrol. My banging and shouting must have started to freak him out
because he ran away. I can no longer see where he is or what he’s doing but I
tell myself to calm down. The sausages have only just been put on and my very
sensitive smoke detector that loves announcing to my neighbors at 6am that I’ve
burnt the toast isn’t going off so everything is ok. Just breathe and relax. I
start hanging out some washing confident that toddler will then come back and I
can then calmly ask him to open the door, possibly bribe him with promises of
chocolate if necessary. Just as I peg the last little thing I smell smoke.
There is no alarm going off so its ok I just have to get in. Panic starts to
rise again as I bang on the door. Toddler is nowhere to be seen. Where could he
be? What could he be getting into? I bang some more, mind racing on other
options as the smoke alarm starts screaming. Thankfully it is this wonderful
alarm that shakes toddler into action as he is now upset and concerned. He
comes running to the door and opens it saying “Smoke mum.” I can’t quite
remember what else he said as auto mode took over, scooped him up, locked him
outside and took me into the kitchen. The kitchen is covered in thick black
smoke and the sausages are on fire. A small fire but fire none the less. I turn
the hotplates off and put a lid on top, smothering the fire and putting it out.

I am brought out of my auto mode fog by the sound of
distressed toddler crying and banging the door. I’m not sure my vice grip bear
hug was that reassuring but I was just so relieved he was ok and nothing had
happened to him. Didn’t seem to bother him though as almost immediately he
looks up at me with his big blue eyes and says, “Can we jump mum?” Oh yes honey
we can. We can do whatever you want as I enjoy you being safe and sound. Just
let mummy have a stiff drink first.

Sunday, 10 June 2012

I’ve always wondered why kids indoor play center’s don’t
sell Panadol or the likes. I mean supermarkets, milk bars, service stations and
toilet vending machines do so I am sure they could too. There has been many at
time at such places where I have certainly needed some or a whole packet even.
Today was no exception. The weather was cold and raining so the place was heaving
with yelling, squealing, screaming, laughing little people. Add on top of that
the parents all chatting and shouting away and the air gun booming as it shoots
foam balls in the ball area. That in itself is migraine material but this
awesome place also has a separate skating rink complete with roller blading
disco sessions. These skate sessions include lights flashing, music blaring and
D.J. on microphone calling out instructions, praise, birthday wishes,
competitions and all amounts of things. You could be forgiven in thinking as I
do, there should even be a doctor on site to prescribe valium to keep the
overreacting, highly strung, nerves on edge parents in check.

We sit there frazzled to the wick trying to enjoy a latte in
relative peace whilst keeping track of our kids whereabouts and behavior. I
hardly dare to blink as I watch my toddler like a hawk. In doing so you hear
and see many terrible things. I guess at times we even do things we really wish
we hadn’t. I am sure the mum who quickly snuck her daughter off to change her
wee drenched pants really regrets not looking for where the ‘accident’ was
released or even notifying staff of the occurrence. As does the Dad regret
saying a whole chapter of trailer park trash type insults at the 3 y.o. that
finally retaliated to an afternoon of torment from his feral behaving child. I
regret some time ago pursuing my cheetah paced 2 y.o. up into some older age
group play equipment in a skirt flashing the poor sods trying now not to vomit
their latte’s. My only concern at the time was the kids safety but it was
pointless as I couldn’t keep up with him and as soon as he squeezed through the
rollers I had to watch him vanish into the mesh of tunnels and steps and hope
for the best. I did enjoy the slide back down so it wasn’t all a waste.

Today I witnessed something completely new. ‘Toddler ten pin’
as it was named by the table of adults behind me. I bet you can guess what the
aim of the game is but daren’t think it could be real, but oh yes to these cruel
excuses for individuals it’s a great sport. They had older age children that
they were egging on and almost forcing to go up into the play equipment or out
onto the skate rink and try and knock over as many kids as possible. There was
a points system and bonuses for tears shed or as they termed it ‘chubby chaps’.
Yup I know, disgusting, appalling, abhorrent and just down right wrong. So what
did I do about it? Confront the group of clearly lovely individuals 8 -1? Noooo!
I mean how could I and really what would that achieve. I guess in hindsight I
could’ve notified staff but that thought just didn’t penetrate my throbbing
head. Instead I went about accidently on purpose tripping, knocking, bumping
and even spilling a drink on this table of adults. I in turn made their time as
unbearable as possible. Twenty odd minutes after I started my barrage in pure frustration
this company of creeps left the building. My head ache may not have dissipated but
the sense of triumph I had certainly overrode it. Toddler Ten Pin Coaches 0 –
Em The Clumsy Gem 1.

Tuesday, 29 May 2012

I talk a lot. To everyone and anyone. I love a good chat and
I guess this is why people talk to me. To my closer friends this however is
known as me being a ‘Mong Magnet’. For the most part it really doesn’t bother me. I
enjoy hearing about people and their stories. I don’t mind them sharing their
problems or confiding in me and I have learnt a lot from these conversations
over the times. There are however times where that invisible boundary of
courtesy and decency is crossed and I am left in complete bewilderment.

For example I met a man for the first time recently and within the first five minutes of meeting him he told me
he was always told he’d never be able to have kids. Then explained very
specifically why this was so. OK that was enough for me to start backing away
but he kind of followed and discussed the genius that are testicles. Thanks for sharing not something I was
really thinking about since I was still trying to figure out how I'd somehow gotten onto the topic of genitals. He is a nice guy and all, just not something I needed to know.

Today however was even worse. I had to go to the GP to get
some paper work done. Couple weeks ago I spent the 2.5 hours wait I had there
talking to a lovely lady whose son had a great time playing with mine. So when
a seemingly nice lady struck up conversation with me today I had no hesitation
in reciprocating. Things all went terribly pear shaped about 3 minutes in when
she said to me “I’m here for my vagina.” Yes I know she said the V word. That’s
ok I can say it, I can talk about it, I have no issues with the human body. I
just reply “Oh, OK,” and hope to leave it at that. But oh NO she elaborated on
to tell me about all the discharge and smell and pimples and ok enough you get
the idea, then asked my opinion on to what it could be. As I am trying to delete
this hideous alien puss filled image from my retina’s I simply say “I have no
idea. Never had anything wrong with my Vagina.” I then did the whole pretend
vibrating phone, urgent message, gotta go routine. Made rushed farewells and as
I headed for the door she calls out to the whole doctors surgery “Glad your
vagina is ok.” Yes it definitely is but mentally, I am permanently scarred.

Saturday, 26 May 2012

My vacation from life would be on a gorgeous secluded island
somewhere far from home. I would not take my husband or kids or friends, whom I
love and enjoy dearly but do not want the pressure of having to socialize or
even talk with. I will have no newspapers or magazines, but there will good
reads in a library. There will be no television but an option of a movie if I
desire. I will not take any computer devices or my phone, it will be as if I
had dropped it into the toilet. I will have no direct connection to the outside
world. There will be a way of contacting me in an emergency but I don’t have to
bother myself with worrying how.

From the moment I step onto the soft sugar sand I will no
longer be a mother or a wife. It will be as if I have dropped all cloaks of
conformity and regained my free inhibited self that I once was. I will not care
if the dog is fed, the uniforms are washed, the groceries are bought, the house
is clean, the washing done, the kids are getting to school and activities, the
bills are being paid or that I had remembered to reply to that
call/message/text.

I will not have to concern myself with any food
responsibilities. There will be no planning, no shopping, no packing, no
preparation, no unpacking, no cooking at all in fact. There will be someone
easy on the eye who will magically appear and disappear to take care of that.
He will also make amazing cocktails and be at my beck and call. This person could
in fact be my husband who’s had cooking and Mills & Boon type seduction
lessons before coming to the island to sweep me off my feet into bliss. He will
also be pretending to be a gorgeous stranger since I am not actually married
and not obliged to spend any time with him. Otherwise I may also have a hall
pass and so this would not matter. Or I will simply enjoy the pampering,
flattery and the view without any other delights. He will clean any spills or
breakages I may have and be able to rescue me if I become tangled in my
hammock. This however is not a Mills & Boon novel or granny porno as you may know it and so romance is not the point of my journey. It could in fact just cause headaches and maybe diseases.

Of course there will be spa treatments readily available so
I may enjoy a massage by the beach under the stars or a pedicure in the banana lounge under a palm tree. Someone
to wash and brush my hair while I enjoy the sunset with said cocktails. To even wash my back if i cannot be bothered with as much as this. I think of the movie, Coming to America and the royal bathers.

There will be music so I may dance like no ones watching because no one is. Or so I may laze on the beach dreaming away listening to something wonderful.

There will be no alarms or clocks except for the setting of the sun and rising of the moon and no not my moon as I'm swimming the one in the sky. If I have chosen to do something at a specific time like diving, someone will merely come and advise me it is time.

The island will be all mine and so I may explore at my own
leisure and wear nothing but the ocean breeze if I want. There will be no one
to see if I happen to flash or spill things on myself. Skinny dipping will be
completely acceptable in the crystal clear blue ocean and no tourist boats
shall pass by.

For a moment in time I will be in heaven on Earth before the
inevitable return to reality.

Monday, 21 May 2012

Why is it that the mornings you wake up and wanna cover your
head with the blanket and not face the day that seem to always go pear shaped?
Go the kids to school on time and then headed off to a new playgroup. One of
the mums who’s kid is friends with my school boys told me about it and I
thought would be great to get to know her for future play dates. After school
drop off I had 45mins to kill. Found where the playgroup was and drove to
Woolies to pick up something for the mums for morning tea. Whilst there the mum
told me there is a roster for that so not to worry so let my well behaved
toddler chose a drink. He was like an angel at the supermarket, did what he was
asked, no tantrums and no touching. Get to the checkout to pay the $1.70 for
his little drink to discover I have left my purse at home. How stupid and how
embarrassing. Toddler is shattered he can’t have his drink and starts bawling
his gorgeous eyes out. I’m not sure if the embarrassment or the disappointment
is worse. So we get in the car to drive the 15 mins home and get my purse so I
can pay for playgroup. This now makes us late for playgroup kick off but I’m
not too fussed about that. Turns out as a new member I get to go three times
before I have to pay anyway.

Riley has not had a toilet accident in so long I can’t even
remember when the last time was. Today however he of course wets his pants
right in the middle of everything. I forget the coffee I’m having and dash to
clean him and the puddle before another kid slips in it, one kid, not my own,
was enough. Dealing with that my abandoned coffee is knocked over and burns a
kids finger. Over to that incident I dash, slip on the clean but wet floor.
Hobble over to the lovely mum and check burnt finger is ok and apologize
profusely. Things settle for about five mins before toddler comes running over
with a picture that he’s ripped off and ruined some other kids art work. Way to
make a good impression.

After playgroup we head back to the supermarket to get that
promised treat from earlier. Once inside toddler does two consecutive massive
sneezes and has a disgusting nose. I have my purse but of course nappy bag is
in the car. Without a tissue at hand he thinks it’s a great idea to then smear
his nose from the top of my thigh down to the knee just as another mum from
playgroup turns down the aisle. I think John is right I should shop online and
use my web cam for toddler to have play dates. Snail trail leg is so gross.

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About Me

Now let's get one thing straight. I never wanted kids and I never wanted to get married. It's not that I didn't like them, I actually wanted to be a kindergarten teacher it was more the fact that I just wasn't keen on being tied down. Having said that I was like the first of my friends to get married at age 21 and had twins just before my 23rd birthday. I adore my husband and children and although would never change any of it (well maybe some slight modifications) let's just say this is certainly not how I pictured my life would be. This wasn't as it were in my manual.....